Look at that fly. Isn’t it something? Want to know what its deal is?

Okay. First: I tied it. Second: I designed it. Third: I haven’t fished it.

I’m sure it would catch fish. If it could. But it can’t. Because there’s no hook point. So, what’s the point?

There is a very valid point and purpose to this fly: It is essentially a bat doughnut. You know – bat doughnuts. The rings or tubes that players in the on-deck circle slide onto their baseball bats while they’re taking practice swings. Theoretically if you practice with something heavier, then your real swings with something lighter will be quicker and crisper.

While a hookless fly with a lot of weight would be useful (and is), this yellow-caped creation actually creates a more extreme scenario. It is all about air resistance.

This is just my opinion, but I believe that casting heavy flies is easier than casting light ones. As long as it isn’t a quarter-ounce dumbbell-eyed Clouser on a four-weight, minor adjustments to your casting stroke can really punch a dense fly out there. It takes some work to get the feeling, but a poorly casted weighted fly can still simply get thrown (it just might not be pretty).

Especially when using higher line weights, modern fly patterns introduce profiles that aren’t particularly aerodynamic. Cup-faced poppers, deer-hair diving bugs, and multi-shanked articulated streamers aren’t necessary heavy. They can be burdensome to cast. Casts also require adjustment when these flies get wet. Even if the materials are hydrophobic, there will still be some weight added after prolonged exposure to water.

And that is the point of this fly.

Practicing casting is important. On the lawn, you’re not going to replicate the experience of being on the water perfectly. Nevertheless, you shouldn’t be throwing a bit of fuzz if you’re casting an eight- or ten-weight. Cast something like what you’ll fish. Air-resistant flies demand an altered casting stroke.

Everyone casts differently. Generally, the long and short of it is this: a normal or sped-up casting stroke with an air-resistant fly will lead to tailing loops. The line will move faster than the leader and fly, and the whole thing will collapse upon itself because the positive energy of your stroke can’t overcome the kite-effect of your fly. One solution is slowing your cast down. Forcing wider loops, you’re able to pull your fly along across a more deliberate arc with a forceful application of power as the fly passes the apex of the loop.

All of this might seem abstract in words. Cast a bit while thinking about it, and you’ll see what I mean. Or don’t, maybe you’re a pro. For the rest of us, though…

Who wants to snap the hook off a $10 fly for practice? That is where my little felt creation comes in.

·        Clamp a 1/0 saltwater hook in your vise. You’ll clip off the hook point later… for now you need that for your vise, obviously.

·        Tie in a thick, ribbed thread base. Pick your favorite (or least favorite) color.

·        Cut a piece of felt into the shape of a feather. You want a thin end tapering up to an inch width for the rest of the length. Four or five inches will do. Bright felt is key – you want to see it while its whizzing by you. Felt also can absorb a little water or a lot of water, depending on if you spritz or submerge.

·        Tie in the thin end with the “feather” facing the eye of the hook. This is important: facing forward creates a small cup and more air resistance.

·        Whip finish (who am I kidding: I use my fingers), unclamp, and use some wire cutters to clip your hook at the bend. No one wants to get hooked in their lawn.

Practice casting with light flies and heavy flies. But also introduce air-resistant flies, both dry and wet. There is nothing more frustrating than not being able to make a presentation to a fish, or not being able to make a good presentation to a fish, in a pinch. An ounce of preparation (and a silly faux fly) might be worth a pound of missed opportunities on the water.